


Never Like That

by estel_willow



Category: Primeval
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-28
Updated: 2011-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estel_willow/pseuds/estel_willow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The light softens the edges that are otherwise rough and a little caustic at times, making certain Action Men look a little more human and, suddenly, a whole lot more attainable.</i></p><p><i>Well, attainable for someone who isn’t Connor Temple, anyway. Because Connor? Is never that lucky.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Like That

**Author's Note:**

> Written as an answer to the primeval100 challenge: Anomaly. Needless to say, it ran away with me!

Connor’s noticed the anomalies have a pulse. He's trying to work out if the pulse can be used to determine how long the anomalies stay open. Not that it matters, since people aren't allowed to go through them, but that's not the point. It's something he has to do because if he doesn't, someday there’ll be a need for it. Everyone will look to him to magic up a miracle and he won't be able to.

And on that day, he'll feel like he's failed Nick and everyone who's died because of these stupid glowy rips in time and space.

\+ + +

There's something ethereal about the anomalies, even though they're dangerous and Connor knows better than to be fascinated. The way they glitter and cast sparkling light on everyone around, highlighting sharp cheekbones or the curve of a smile, highlighting strong hands on the neck of a device or around the handle of an EMD.

The light softens the edges that are otherwise rough and a little caustic at times, making certain Action Men look a little more human and, suddenly, a whole lot more attainable.

Well, attainable for someone who isn’t Connor Temple, anyway. Because Connor? Is never that lucky.

\+ + +

He doesn't mean to fall through.

Well, it was a choice between him and Abby. There's no question that his need to protect her overwhelms almost everything else and he'd just... jumped in the way.

He'd been hit in the side by a small Ornithopod. It had been frightened, trying to escape whilst the team was just trying to get it home. Connor had just… swapped places when Abby was in its sights.

The last thing he remembers hearing is Becker's voice yelling his name and all he can think is _'He just called me Connor'_.

Then everything goes dark.

\+ + +

Connor wakes up to find a diictodon sniffing his face and the first thing he thinks is 'great, home, all a dream, wonderful' but the diictodon isn't Sid and it's not Nancy and Connor suddenly remembers the dinosaur and the anomaly and realises again that he's stuck, on the wrong side of an anomaly and he's alone.

He doesn't have a weapon, he doesn't have any food and he feels a sick panic twisting and churning in his stomach that has nothing to do with the chirruping dinosaur bouncing on his chest.

He's alone this time, and the anomaly's closed.

\+ + +

He's done this before and it shouldn't be so hard or frightening, but it is. Because this time he doesn't have Abby. He’s alone. He stands up, feeling a sharp pain go through his head, bile climbing up his throat.

The diictodons are around his feet now, chirruping and nudging him with their feet. He wonders if they can smell Sid and Nancy and crouches down because if he's going to faint again it's better that he's closer to the floor.

He feels a spike of fear when he touches his head and his fingers come away wet with blood.

\+ + +

Connor relies on the diictodons to warn him of impending doom. They squawk, run and expect him to follow, showing him places to hide and scurrying away until the predator of the moment has passed.

He thinks about leaving the anomaly site but he can't. He can't because he knows it'll open again, he hopes it’s not in another year. He can’t be alone for that long.

His head's still spinning and he’s finding it hard to stay awake, curls up in a tree with his back against the trunk, cradled by thick foliage and tries not to fall asleep.

\+ + +

He falls out his tree on the second day, hits his head again and briefly, he thinks, loses consciousness again. He scrounges out roots to eat and shares them with the diictodons that have adopted him. At night he goes to his tree and stays awake, rubbing at his eyes, wishing for coffee and a blanket.

His head hurts, his ankle's painful and his whole body feels like it wants to revolt. He wants to cry and kick things, shout like a petulant child until the universe relents and gives in.

But the universe is a bitch and ignores him.

\+ + +

It’s been a week, now, and Connor’s been fighting a losing battle against unconsciousness and tiredness. And he knows he’s about to lose.

His eyes slide shut and don't open again for a very long time.

He dreams of falling, and then of home, of strong hands grabbing and lifting him, the bright glare of sun and a calloused touch against his face. He dreams of an Eton educated voice saying his name like it's a prayer and being held against a firm chest, cradled and protected. Maybe even loved.

But it's just a dream.

And Connor doesn't wake up.

\+ + +

One anomaly alert aside, Becker stays by Connor's side and watches him sleep. Guilt's eating him up at the fact that he'd briefly lost Connor - again - through an anomaly. He's glad that Matt didn't argue when Becker declared he would find Connor, ordered a soldier to remain at the scene to alert them when it reopens.

Johnson's fussing around the bed, checking his pupils by lifting his eyelids and flashing a light in and the first reaction they've had from him in three days is a slight scrunching of Connor's nose, and a weak swat for Johnson's hand.

\+ + +

"About time you woke up," Becker says, feeling relief coursing through his veins and he grips his weapon to stop himself giving anything away.

Connor blinks at him and smiles. It's wide and endearing, Becker's grip tightens around his EMD because he's got an alien urge to reach out and touch. Reassure himself that Connor's definitely there.

"You carried me," Connor announces with a goofy grin.

"Don't get used to it."

The anomalies can try and take Connor all they want, but Becker's always going to get him back. He can't not.

Connor's become more than a job to him.

\+ + +

Connor's highly aware that he's being watched. His hands are shaking as he holds his newest gadget up to the anomaly. It's pulsing and there are corresponding blips on the screen.

"It'll be open for another two hours, according to this," he says, and Becker nods for the anomaly to be locked so no one can accidentally disappear through it.

"We've got it," Becker says and his men shuffle off with sly, knowing smirks.

Connor attention is on his machines, though he knows Becker’s eyes are on him and he wishes it wasn’t duty that drove Becker to watch him.

\+ + +

"For a smart guy-" Abby says, pushing her finger into Connor's forehead. They're sitting in front of a locked anomaly, waiting for the bloody thing to close, to see if Connor's machine is accurate more than once. "-you're really stupid."

Connor shoves at her hand and shakes his head. "That's not true and you know it." He doesn't look up, though, because sometimes he's afraid that she's right.

"And you're moping worse than a lovesick teenager." She's teasing him, but there's another layer underneath and Connor just shrugs.

"Dunno what you mean."

"I mean Becker, Connor."

Connor's spine goes rigid.

\+ + +

Connor hates conversations like this, the ones where people tell him things he already knows and doesn't need to be told are stupid and dangerous. He says as much and Abby just lets him rant before she uncrosses her legs and shoves him.

"Not that I blame you, he is hot." This conversation could only become more surreal if Abby describes Becker as 'fit'. "Nice hands."

Connor splutters. "I don't- there's-"

"It's okay, I know," Abby says, touching the side of Connor's face. "It's fine."

But it's not. Because he's Connor and Becker's _Becker_ and things don't work like that.

\+ + +

His apparent inability to see what Abby's convinced is there has lead to her crusading to make Connor see it. No point saying that to her: once she's got her mind set on something, there's no changing it.

"I've never seen him look so worried," Abby says as they're sitting in the ops room watching Becker and his soldiers on the level below. Connor thinks it's a little creepy, but the view's quite nice so he won't complain. "Y'know, when you disappeared."

He resists saying that Becker's job is to look after them and Becker takes his job very seriously.

\+ + +

Abby tells Connor that it was Becker that found him and carried him back through the anomaly. She says Becker only left the infirmary when he was chased out, ordered to leave and shower, or eat.

Connor knows there's at least a little truth to the story, remembering the dream-like quality of being carried.

She tells him that Becker's always been watching Connor but she's never said anything because she had to be sure. She doesn't want Connor to get hurt.

He tells her he's a big boy. She wiggles her eyebrows. He despairs as the anomaly alert goes off.

\+ + +

"Temple, get away from the anomaly, for God's sake," Becker's snapping. There's something behind his eyes that Connor doesn't quite understand but thinks it’s related to how close Becker's been hovering since they hit the scene.

The Ankylosaurus is swinging its tail; the EMDs are doing nothing but angering it. It goes for the nearest person. That's Connor. His stomach sinks: he knows he's going to get knocked through the open anomaly - again – when there's suddenly a weight on his chest and he hits the floor.

Becker's pinning him down with a thigh between his. Connor's eyes go dark.

\+ + +

Neither of them moves. Connor's pupils are huge and his body's reacting without his permission. He's mortified and turned on and it's just so, _so_ unfair. He hates his life right now but then Becker shifts on top of him and there's a brief flicker in the stoic expression, the faintest flutter of Becker’s eyes and then he's pushing himself off and away, boots crunching twigs and leaves viciously as he moves.

Connor’s suddenly pretty sure they just had a moment. He gets to his feet himself and then slips over, hitting the ground again with a thump.

Smooth, Connor.

\+ + +

Connor's never so desperately wanted an anomaly to crop up out of nowhere and distract him from his thoughts. He can't stop thinking about Becker's weight pressing down on him. He pushes his hands through his hair, pulls his fingerless gloves on.

He's in the locker room. He just needed to breathe and he jumps when the door opens and he's suddenly not alone anymore.

Becker's standing in front of him and then suddenly Connor's back's pressed up against the wall and there's an arm against his throat, Becker's hand fisted in his shirt, knee between Connor's thighs, pressing close.

\+ + +

Connor can't breathe, feels Becker closing in around him and all he hears is Becker's words, sharp and bitten like he's holding something back - Anger, Connor's mind says.

"We can't lose you," Becker's snapping, "You've got to be more careful." He hears "-an integral part of the team," and "-need you here," before there's a mouth on his and sweet Jesus, Becker's kissing him.

Connor doesn't respond straight away but then he presses upwards, keening into the contact. Becker kisses like he leads, dominating and commanding and without hesitation. He’s demanding and Connor willingly gives over everything he has.

\+ + +

It's nothing like Connor imagined, and he's in no way bothered by that because he knows he'll bear the marks for days, hidden beneath layers of hoodies and scarves.

Becker's touch is sure and confident and soft, making Connor whine and plead until shutting him up with a kiss, not giving in to the younger man's demands until Connor’s a wrecked mess of _wantneedtakehave_.

And Connor? Connor gets to see a side of Becker that's carefully hidden away underneath layers of professionalism and training. The side that smiles, kisses necks, that cradles him like he's precious and maybe even loved.

\+ + +

He wants to ask what this means, but he doesn't dare: it they name it, that would end it. That's always the way. But Abby grins at him and sticks her thumbs up and Becker stays closer than ever before, especially when they're standing in front of an anomaly, his grip on Connor's shoulder tight, possessive and the gentle brush of his thumb against the hollow of his throat never ceases to make him shiver.

Everyone knows, after Connor drags Becker out of a debrief after he’d had a scare that Becker had been killed, jumping him in the hallway.

\+ + +

Connor's not the type to say 'I love you' unless dying, and he knows Becker's not they type to say it at all, but it's all there in the way his hair gets kissed, or in how Becker brings him coffee when he's working in his lab. It's in everything that Becker does for him now that he didn't do before.

Ask him about it, though, and Becker'll clear his throat and shrug it off with the excuse of 'It's Connor', and you’d be best to leave it there.

And it’s strange how many people at the ARC understand that.


End file.
